


Ash

by dartmouth420



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Dystopia, F/F, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Lesbian AU, Mentor/Protégé, Mostly Platonic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pure Chaos, Rare Pair, revolutions are hard my friends, takes place during Catching Fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dartmouth420/pseuds/dartmouth420
Summary: Jackie is alone. She won the 74th Hunger Games eleven months ago, and nothing has been the same since. The only person who can even remotely understand what Jackie’s going through is a certain deeply unhelpful, grey-haired local alcoholic. But rebellion is brewing in Panem and the 75th Games are just around the corner… this time with a special twist.
Relationships: Jackie Cox/Crystal Methyd, Jackie Cox/Raja, Sutan Amrull | Raja/Manila Luzon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. “Can you not be hungover tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> hunger games au might be an overdone trope but I’m doing it anyway for this mostly-platonic rare pair I dreamt up with a PTSD bond and a problematic™ age gap, easily one of the more angsty and self-indulgent things I've ever written! If you’re familiar with the HG series, this story takes place during Catching Fire, it mostly follows the plot of that book/movie but with a few key changes.
> 
> CWs: alcoholism, depression/anxiety, PTSD/ongoing trauma, age gap, violence and death in later chapters.

Jackie ran. 

The trees whipped past as she dodged branches, the rotten snow crunching under her light, torn boots. Her heart pounded, the world flying past in sharp adrenaline-fuelled focus. There were people and mutts behind her. Her breath burnt in her lungs and images flashed before her: lush green jungle, birds and insects, huge hallucinogenic flowers, as she tripped over vines-

Jackie ran until she couldn’t run anymore, slowing and coming to a stop on the edge of a ridge. Her cheeks puffed up, tingling in the cold as she hunched forward, her hands on her knees, gasping for breath. She looked around. There was nothing behind her today.

But there had been. 

Jackie had walked out of the Arena alive, eleven months ago.

Hands shaking, Jackie straightened up and surveyed her surroundings. The familiar woods of District 12 were all around her and she dragged the soothing smell of pine and fir into her nose. A siren sounded and Jackie jumped, then moved out towards the cliff on the edge of the ridge. The cliff looked over one of the many mines outside of town, and Jackie realized the siren had indicated a shift change. The workers were let out, walking back along the road, dusty, underpaid and exhausted from mining precious metals, gems and minerals, none of them ever seeing a drop of the wealth that they tore from the earth.

Not that Jackie was bitter, or anything.

Jackie felt in her jacket for a knife. She always carried knives these days, a habit she couldn’t quite kick. She gripped it, and turned in a split second and whipped it at a tree. Jackie pivoted, her second knife already in her hand, throwing it at a stump. The knife embedded itself deep into the dead wood and for a split second the stump was the girl from District 5, the shock in her green eyes still raw as it had been that day- 

Jackie pulled in another breath, shutting her eyes. When she opened them the girl was gone, and the stump remained where it was. She walked over to the tree and the stump, claiming her knives and tucking them back into her jacket. It wasn’t like Jackie needed the skill anymore, except to occasionally hunt for wild turkeys, small deer and rabbits, but the habit remained. It had started long before she'd ever set foot in the Arena. Jackie kicked up into a jog, and ran back down the ridge through the woods to the Victor’s Village. 

-

The Village was mostly empty, of course, a line of the nicest houses in the impoverished community of District 12. Jackie spat on the ground just outside the gates as she always did, a personal curse on the place. But at least her mom and her little brother were more comfortable, despite the fact that they were now somewhat alienated from the community at large. Her mom and brother lived with her in the Village in the house at the end of the row, closest to town so they could still go and do everything they needed to. Not that they really needed to do anything nowadays, the victor’s salary gave Jackie more money than she knew what to do with.

Instead of going to the house where she lived, Jackie walked a few doors down to a house on the opposite side, her boots hitting the lovely cobblestoned street. The lovely cobblestones were wasted on a grey and barely inhabited neighbourhood, because no one from District 12 ever won the Games. 

Except for one other.

The front door was never locked, so Jackie walked right up the steps and went inside. The entryway was dark and messy, as usual. Jackie stamped her snowy, muddy boots on the filthy mat but didn’t bother taking them off as she walked inside, going through a familiar doorway on the left. 

The room was dark, barely illuminated by the thin, late afternoon light coming in the window. And what it did illuminate wasn’t pretty. The room was messy, and bottles, both empty and half-full, covered the table. Several were broken on the floor. Jackie sighed as the broken glass crunched under her boots. A decent resealable bottle was valuable, it was such a waste to break them.

At the centre of the mess was a woman with her head down on the table, her face hidden in her elbow. Her long, unkempt grey hair spilled over her arm and down her back.

Raja.

Jackie sighed again, pointedly. Raja didn’t stir. Jackie walked over to her, and cautiously poked the back of her head, quickly dodging back. But Raja didn’t respond. 

“Wake up, the tour starts tomorrow,” said Jackie, irritated, poking her again.

Raja grunted vaguely but didn’t raise her head. Rolling her eyes to herself, Jackie went through the room, past a shattered mirror to the kitchen. The classic wooden counters were covered in dirty dishes. Jackie located an empty tin jug and ran water from the tap. Jackie shook her head as she did it. There was indoor plumbing in the Victor’s Village, but the rest of the community in town ran on collective wells and pumps in the square behind the row houses. Jackie remembered going out for water, twice a day.

Her jug full and her determination heightened, Jackie walked back through the room. Allowing herself a modicum of amusement, Jackie tipped the frigid water onto Raja’s head. 

The older woman woke with a gasp, flailing. 

“Fuck!” exclaimed Raja, pushing the wet strands of grey hair off her face.

“Awake now?” said Jackie dryly, unable to help from being entertained.

“Brat,” muttered Raja, standing up slowly and shaking herself, “Ugh. What day is it?”

“Sunday, the tour of the Districts starts tomorrow,” repeated Jackie, wrinkling her nose. She hadn’t noticed it at first but Raja smelled like an awful mixture of stale alcohol, body odour and hungover breath. She had deep lines under her eyes and looked like she hadn’t washed in days. But that wasn’t particularly unusual for her.

“Fuck,” repeated Raja, shivering and stepping to the side, picking up a bottle from the table and bringing it to her lips.

Jackie’s expression twisted.

Raja drank, hiccuped and wiped her mouth, then glared blearily at Jackie.

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Raja. 

“Because it’s what Alaska said,” replied Jackie, shifting her weight awkwardly from hip to hip. She hung around with Raja a lot these days, over the past year. The older woman had won the Hunger Games twenty-six years ago, at sixteen, and had been Jackie’s mentor last year. Raja wasn’t particularly good company, but sometimes they’d go out in her back yard and sit around the fire pit. Raja would wrap herself in a blanket and drink and sometimes talk, and stare at the flames. Jackie would poke the fire with a stick, and add wood, and occasionally they’d cook something over it. They didn’t talked about the Games. Sometimes Jackie slept in Raja’s spare room, because she didn’t want to go home and face her mother and her little brother. Sometimes, Jackie would awaken in the night to hear Raja shouting in her sleep, or wandering around, restlessly pacing the house. Raja never had any visitors, but occasionally she went to the Capitol. When she came back, she’d go on a week-long bender.

“Alaska,” repeated Raja, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, from the Capitol.”

“I know where she’s from.”

“She said you have to come with me, on the tour.”

Raja sighed heavily, then reached into her sweater pocket and took out a lighter. She flicked it on and stared at the flame for a second, then turned it off and put it back.

Jackie wondered momentarily what it was like inside Raja’s head. Like all victors in their respective Districts, it was Raja’s job to the mentor the tributes from District 12 each year. But for the past twenty-six years since she’d won, she’d sent the teenaged tributes into the Arena and watched every single one of them die.

Except for Jackie.

But then Jackie realized that maybe Raja wouldn’t take the job this year, and it would be _her_ responsibility to attempt to mentor and train the tributes from District 12 in the short span of weeks they had leading up this year’s Hunger Games. Fuck. Raja’s collection of bottles on the table suddenly looked tempting. But before worrying about this year’s tributes, Jackie had the traditional Victory Tour of all the Districts to get over with.

“Can you not be hungover tomorrow?” snapped Jackie, resentment and irritation rising in her, “Like, for once?”

Raja just sneered in response and stalked out of the room.

Jackie let her go, and left the house, slamming the front door behind her.

-

Jackie got ready the next morning, waking up early to bathe and comb her long dark brown hair, neatly braiding it in two matching braids from the crown of her head down the sides, to rest on her shoulders. Her hair was typical of those from District 12, along with brown or grey eyes and skin ranging from her paler, slightly olive tone to Raja’s light brown.

Jackie hung around in the kitchen, while her mother avoided her eyes. There was a knock at the door and her little brother Darius looked up. Darius had the same hair as her but it was shorter and shaggy. Only thirteen now, he’d been selected at the Reaping last year, his name pulled out of the thousands of little slips. But in a moment of horrible visceral panic as the urge to protect him overwhelmed Jackie, she'd raised her hand and shouted, _I volunteer!_ She’d have had a better chance at seventeen, as one of the oldest. And she had. Jackie blinked, her sprint through the jungle coming back up-

“They’re here,” said Darius, and he got up, going to hover near the door. Jackie’s mother placed a pretty scarf placed delicately over her head, framing her face, as she always did when there were visitors, and stood quietly next to them. Jackie took a breath and opened the door. 

“Hiieee!” greeted Alaska, in her typical high-pitched drone. 

The woman from the Capitol still looked like a space alien to Jackie. Her bleached blonde hair was piled up on her head in a massive volume of waves, and she wore thick, heavy makeup with weird blue-painted eyes and lips. Her dress this time around was a bright orange vinyl. Jackie crossed her arms over her many-times mended thick wool sweater, necessary in the winter of District 12, feeling homely and awkward in comparison. 

“Jackie, darling, how nice to see you again,” droned Alaska in her weird voice, walking in to her home, a leopard-print handbag dangling on her arm, “You’re about to start your Victory Tour! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yes,” lied Jackie. There was a Peacekeeper behind Alaska, and Raja skulked behind them both, looking through the doorway and nodding to Jackie’s mother, who nodded back. Raja’s coat was newer, a plain black, and she looked much cleaner and less hungover than yesterday. 

“Come come, the train awaits!” said Alaska, with a loud, grating laugh. 

Jackie turned and hugged her brother tight, whispering a quick _I love you._ Jackie straightened and looked into her mother’s tired, guarded eyes. Ever since Jackie had returned, her mother avoided touching her. It underlined Jackie’s loneliness, reinforcing how horribly everything had changed, how she wasn’t herself anymore, and she’d never be again- 

They nodded to one another and Jackie leaned in to hug her anyway, brief and stiff, her mother’s awkward hands on her back bringing only the barest hint of comfort.

“Bye,” said Jackie, mostly to Darius, as she followed Alaska out the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

Darius waved, and her mother nodded again, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

Outside, Alaska said something as she tottered in her high heels across the cobblestones but Jackie ignored her. On her other side Raja sighed, and their little group walked down to the end of the street where a vehicle waited to bring them to the train station.


	2. "Just tell them about her."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bursts of violence on the Victory Tour leave Jackie angry and unsettled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: hunger games series-typical police violence

The Victory Tour was going… fine. 

Jackie stood in a long, formal dress on the platform before the crowd in District 8. Her dress had been designed by her former stylist, Widow, who Jackie had secretly hoped would be with them on the Victory Tour. But Widow hadn’t been invited, instead she’d sent the dress on the train, with detailed instructions leaving Alaska in charge of Jackie’s look. Last year, Widow had shown Jackie kindness and encouragement as her head stylist, designing memorable outfits to impress the sponsors and Capitol citizens, garnering support for Jackie and- Jackie blinked. And Jan. Her fellow tribute. Jan wasn’t from town, she’d been from the mountains, and looked different than was typical of District 12, with her dirty blonde hair and grey eyes. Bright green jungle leaves flying past, a scream behind her-

Jackie took a deep breath as a breeze ruffled the cue cards in her hands, and read through the Capitol-approved speech, trying not to look up at the faces of the fallen tributes on the large, holographic screens above the crowd. One of them had been nice to her, she remembered vaguely. When she was done there was scattered applause, the crowd stirring like they expected more from her. 

“Tell us what you really think!” someone shouted.

Shocked, Jackie scanned the crowd, trying to identify the speaker. Low murmurs began at the edges. 

“Uh, I-” said Jackie into the microphone, hesitating, glancing back up at the images of the fallen tributes. “I, they were, I’m sorry for-”

A Peacekeeper appeared in her peripheral vision and Jackie dodged away from him. The crowd shifted, restless. Jackie retreated offstage, glancing behind her.

“Well, you got through it,” said Raja, somewhat sympathetically, patting her shoulder. Jackie shrugged her off, and stalked back through the building to the station.

-

Later on, Jackie couldn’t sleep so she wandered the dark train. She slipped by the cabins, aware of Alaska asleep behind a closed door and Raja passed out in one of the lounges at the far end of the train, under the windows that looked up to the stars.

The noise of quiet, scattered audio echoed down the hallway and Jackie ghosted along the corridor and peeked through the crack in the door. Inside was a Peacekeeper, looking absurd with his helmet off, leaning towards a screen. On the screen were several camera feeds, showing riots and violence in what Jackie thought might be District 6, and then another, somewhere colder, people raising makeshift weapons and chanting words that Jackie couldn’t make out. Was that District 3? President Charles appeared on the screen, making some kind of announcement. Jackie’s breath froze. The President’s face was smooth, perfect, terrifying, and when he looked into the camera it was like he was looking all the way across the room at her.

Another Peacekeeper appeared in her vision, his frowning face looming towards her. Jackie stepped back. The Peacekeeper shut the door with a decisive thud.

-

Two days later, Jackie sat alone at the end of the train, under the windows among the comfortable cushions, and tried not to think about Heidi.

But the memory rose up anyway. It hadn’t been that long ago.

Heidi hadn’t stood a chance in the Hunger Games at twelve years old. She was from District 11, where despite the fact that they produced the majority of the food for the Capitol and the wealthier districts, they still faced poverty and malnutrition. District 12 had a similar problem. But they’d befriended one another during training, Heidi’s personality and strength shining through despite the odds stacked against her. In the Arena, Heidi had climbed a tree at the beginning, whistling for birds, and Jackie had made a camp around the base, and gone off looking for fresh water. Jackie knew Heidi wasn’t a strategic ally, but she couldn’t help wanting to protect her because she was so small and reminded Jackie of her brother. Jackie had been delayed, having to fight and hide from the District 4 tributes. Heidi had come down out from the tree out of hunger and thirst and by the time Jackie had come back, Heidi had been attacked by one of the Careers and left for dead. Heidi had died in her arms. Jackie had carried Heidi through the jungle and laid her out in the meadow and covered her in flowers, and when the hovercraft had come to lift her little body out, Jackie had watched and offered a three-finger salute in her honour, trying stop the tears leaking down her face.

“Hey.”

Jackie flinched violently, falling off the bench to the floor and leaping up again, knife out. 

Raja had the audacity to smirk at her, and then sat down on the cushion next to hers while Jackie’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and she tried to steady her heartbeat.

“Here,” said Raja, and offered Jackie a silver flask from the inside pocket of her jacket. Jackie sat back down and took it, taking a cautious sip. She immediately coughed, barely managing to gag it down. Ugh, it was straight liquor. Gross.

Jackie gave it back, wiped her hand on the back of her mouth and sighed.

“District 11,” said Raja, sipping from the flask without reacting and putting it back in her pocket.

“What?”

“We'll be there in the morning.”

“I know!” snapped Jackie, “We were just in District 10, I can count.” Jackie wasn’t looking forward to it. Having to see the place where Heidi had come from, to look her family, her friends, her community in the eye and read the empty, false words off of the cards-

“You did the right thing,” said Raja, shrugging, “In your Games, with the kid and the flowers and whatever. People saw that and they- you know.”

Jackie stared out the window. Everything was green and lush. Alaska’s droning voice leaked in from the other cabin.

“So,” sighed Raja, “I don’t fucking know, just tell them about her. That’s all they want to hear.”

With that, Raja got up and left, stumbling a little through the doorway. Jackie sighed, and the loneliness ate at her. 

-

Jackie stood on the stage in District 11, and looked out at the big crowd. People stared back at her. Peacekeepers lined the square here, just like they did at public events at home. Jackie cleared her throat, the memory of Heidi rising up. It had been almost a year ago, but it still hurt. Jackie still saw Heidi’s face sometimes when she closed her eyes.

“Uh,” muttered Jackie, and the microphone squealed feedback. Heidi stared at her from a huge holographic screen on the right side of the square, a little smile on her face, the gap in her front teeth just barely visible. The face of the other tribute was on the opposite side, but Jackie hadn’t known him well. Jackie blinked, the words on the cards blurring. She dropped her hands and stared out at the crowd.

Somewhere behind her, Alaska hissed, “Jackie, the cards-“

Jackie ignored her, and opened her mouth, and talked about Heidi. She wasn’t even sure what she said, caught up in the memory. Whatever it was was better than the bullshit on the cards, Jackie was certain. A minute or so passed, and then Jackie trailed off, as a lone old man in the crowd raised his hand, saluting her with three fingers in the air, and offering a low whistle, just like Heidi had done in the Arena to call birds. 

The hair on the back of Jackie’s neck stood up.

Others raised their hands too, until the entire crowd was saluting her as she had for Heidi. There was a shout, and then another. The energy of the crowd changed from somber to charged, intense, demanding. In pain.

“She deserved better, all of you deserve better-” the words tumbled out of Jackie’s mouth into the microphone and she heard Alaska squeak behind her. A hand grabbed her, and the Peacekeeper dragged Jackie back into the building. The Peacekeepers along the sides began to attack the crowd with batons, but the crowd pushed back, people shouting, and the noise echoed around the huge square.

But as Jackie was pulled away, she saw the old man who’d first raised his hand dragged out of the crowd and up onto the stage, forced to kneel, and a Peacekeeper raised a gun to his head-

“No!” shrieked Jackie as the doors slammed shut.

-

Back at home a couple of days later, Jackie ran through the woods again.

Jackie wasn’t sure what part of her insisted she keep running, or throwing knives at trees. It wasn’t like she’d need these skills in the future. But it was something to do during the day, a compulsion she couldn’t kick. So she sprinted through the woods, going as fast and as far as she could go. 

It had kept her alive, once.

Jackie ducked a branch and leapt over some roots, the winter snow crunching under her feet as she careened down an incline into a little valley.

“Hey!”

Jackie flinched and crashed into a tree at high speed, pain lancing through her shoulder. Instinct taking over, she ducked and rolled, coming up a few feet away, her knife in her hand. But Jackie didn’t see anybody. Where was the threat? Had she imagined it, again-

“Jackie?”

Jackie looked up, raising her knife, ready to let it fly- and stopped. 

Crystal Methyd gazed down at her from up a tree, sitting comfortably in a crook between branches, wearing a patchwork jacket that blended in well with the woods. She held a bow and arrow loosely in her hands. Jackie smiled, and her heart rate began to ease.

“Hey Crystal,” said Jackie, rubbing her sore shoulder and looking up at her, “Did you bag anything today?”

“Nah,” said Crystal, “But I set some snares for rabbits down in the valley, wouldn’t want you running through them, that’s all.”

Jackie nodded, and shrugged, “Yeah, I think I’m a little big to be caught in a rabbit snare.”

Crystal laughed and grinned, then climbed down the tree. Jackie remembered she was holding the knife and tucked it back into its sheath inside her coat. Crystal was one of Jackie’s friends from her old neighbourhood, before she’d returned from the Games and moved into the Victor’s Village. They used to be close, spending every spare minute they had together, and going out into the woods to hunt and wander and talk for hours. Crystal was the only one of her old friends who still made an effort to talk to her, and even then, Jackie was reticent.

“How was the tour?” asked Crystal, dropping from the last branch of the tree to land in front of Jackie, a characteristic bright smile on her face. Her hair was cut in a mullet, dark and curly under her toque.

“It was fine,” replied Jackie, looking at the ground and shifting from foot to foot in the cold. Spring was coming, but it didn’t feel that way yet. Crystal had always been attractive to her, cute and charming, full of good humour.

“We saw part of your speech in District 11, before they cut the broadcast,” said Crystal, off-handedly. “You know how it’s mandatory to watch… ”

“Well,” said Jackie, looking down and trying not to imagine Heidi’s face. An image of the old man being dragged up onto the platform loomed before her instead-

“Everyone misses you down at the market,” said Crystal, and Jackie looked back up to see Crystal’s friendly expression, undisturbed by Jackie’s little moment, “Come by sometime, say hello. I’ve got pelts and other stuff for sale.”

“Yeah, I will,” murmured Jackie, nodding. They used to hang out by the open market, sell and trade what they could to one another to get by. It felt like another lifetime. “I’m uh, I’m up in the Victor’s Village now.”

“I know.”

They stood together in the cold for a moment. The gulf between them overwhelmed Jackie. It was impossible to explain what had happened, what she’d done, how everything had changed. All of her former peers felt so distant from her, like Jackie had aged twenty years since she'd returned last year. No one understood what it was like, not even remotely-

Well, Raja did, in a way.

Jackie sighed, crossing her arms against the chill. Crystal kicked at the snow.

“I’m uh, the reaping is in a couple weeks,” said Jackie, the nerves curling low in her gut, “I think I’m supposed to mentor this year’s tributes… but I don’t know how it’s gonna go.”

Crystal drew in a slow breath through her nose and let it out with a nod, a show of sympathy without being patronizing. Jackie imitated her, breathing in and out slowly and finding herself a little calmer. 

“You wanna walk back to town together?” asked Crystal, without addressing what Jackie had said, “I’ll check my snares on the way, see if I’ve got some rabbits or a ground squirrel.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Their hands brushed together as they walked down the narrow path, and Jackie started at the contact, pulling her hand away. But then she let it happen again. Crystal gave her another smile and caught her up on the market gossip, and Jackie even found herself letting out a laugh.


	3. "So, do you have a plan?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an announcement from the Capitol about this year's Quarter Quell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw hunger games series-typical police violence

Jackie found herself on the sofa in her living room with her mother and her brother Darius. Unexpectedly, Raja sat in the chair next to them, looking completely out of place.

Raja had come over to speak with Jackie, appearing more sober than usual, but her timing was so bad that the red _Mandatory Broadcast_ message flashed across the holographic television screen before she’d gotten a chance to say anything. The broadcast was a few days before the reaping for this year’s Quarter Quell, announcing the special edition of the Games that happened every twenty-five years to commemorate the victory of the Capitol over the Districts. Jackie had been nervous about it all week, unconsciously clenching her jaw so tight it was sore.

Jackie couldn’t help her gaze from flicking between the announcement on the holographic screen and Raja in the chair next to the couch. Raja glared at the screen. Her arms were crossed, and she slumped back into the chair, her long legs loose in front of her. In one hand she played with her lighter, flicking the flame on and off with her thumb in an odd, subconscious nervous tic.

On the holographic screen, the President kept talking.

“-for the 75th annual Hunger Games this year, as set down by the first President and the Council of the Capitol in its victory over the Districts,” announced President Charles, his cold voice booming artificially through the massive square in the Capitol.

There was a moment of silence as he opened the yellow envelope in his hands. Darius fidgeted. Jackie couldn’t help but lean forward in sick, nervous anticipation. 

“For this year’s Quarter Quell,” read President Charles, his face smooth and emotionless, “We remind those that dare to cause unrest that the ideal of the hero is false, and not even the strongest among you can overcome the power of the Capitol. As such, this year the tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.”

Jackie was certain she’d heard it wrong. That couldn’t possibly be right. 

The President kept talking, with just a bare hint of smugness, but Jackie couldn’t absorb any more information, tuning it out in shock. She turned to Raja, opening her mouth to say something, but stopped. Raja sat frozen, her face had gone completely grey, matching her hair in a moment of awful absurdity. Then she looked at Jackie, her expression blank with horror.

“What-” began Jackie, but didn’t finish her sentence as Raja jerked back to life, leapt up from the chair and stalked to the door with unexpected speed, slamming it behind her. 

On her other side, Jackie’s mother began to silently weep, pressing her hands to her face.

“You’re going back?” whispered Darius, looking at Jackie with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

-

After trying to comfort her mother and her brother in their teary panic, Jackie gave up and rushed outside, her heart hammering in her chest. She crossed the street to Raja’s house and burst in the door. A bottle flew out from the opposite room and shattered on the wall in the hallway, followed by a horrible yell. 

Jackie peeked around the corner and ducked another empty bottle. Raja was a picture of rage, her hair falling in her face as she paced around the room, pushing things off of surfaces to the floor, kicking her furniture and throwing another empty bottle at the wall. Incomprehensible curses and shouts burst from her.

Jackie watched, her own fear and anger buried deep under a blanket of shock and disbelief. Eventually Raja seemed to tire, and gave up, sitting down heavily in the chair at the table, her head in her hands.

“We’re the only victors from our District,” said Jackie, stating the obvious, her quiet voice huge in the silence. She took a few steps closer to Raja, the broken glass crunching under her boots.

Raja nodded behind her hands.

“What are we gonna do?” asked Jackie, helpless.

“I-” began Raja, and dragged her hands down her face. “I don’t fucking know. We’re gonna-” she stopped, and looked down at her hands. Jackie followed her gaze. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the palms of Raja’s hands were scarred, sections of the skin were pale and shiny. The scars weren’t unlike those of the survivors of mining accidents around town-

Raja turned her hands over and started to laugh, a small chuckle at the back of her throat that grew loud, awful and bitter, echoing around her living room as Jackie’s heart dropped. It was inevitable, she was going back, fuck, no, no, _no-_

Jackie backed out of the dark house and Raja’s horrible laugh followed, echoing after her. Her face tingled with horror as the reality seeped in. 

Jackie turned and ran down the empty cobbled street, careening into the woods. 

-

The next day Jackie was helping Darius with the dishes when she heard a knock at the door.

She’d spent most of yesterday running through the woods and crying, eventually returning home in the evening to eat a chunk of bread and collapse on the sofa, sleeping fitfully. Her mother hadn’t gotten out of bed at all today. Jackie dried her hands, went over and opened the door. Raja stood on the step before her. She seemed less hungover than usual, and there were dark circles under her determined eyes. Determined was a new expression for her. 

“What?” asked Jackie, suspicious.

“Come walk with me,” said Raja, gesturing. She wore the newish black coat, but Jackie was sure she had her flask and her lighter hidden in it somewhere.

Jackie huffed in annoyance, and gave Raja a glare before shutting the door. 

“I’m just going out,” said Jackie, walking back over and patting Darius’s shoulder, who was watching her with a nervous expression, “I’ll be back soon, get a start on your homework.”

Darius nodded, and then made a face, going over to pick up one of his schoolbooks on the dining room table. Jackie threw on a couple of of extra layers and went outside, to where Raja was smoking a cigarette on the stoop. The wind blew around them, ruffling Jackie’s loose hair.

“The reaping is in two days,” said Raja, without looking at her. Her eyes were ahead. 

“They’re still gonna do it?” asked Jackie, confused, “But there’s only us. That’s basic math.”

“It’s about the ceremony, not the actual selection.”

“Okay…?”

“The other Districts will do it too, they have more to choose from.”

Raja finished her cigarette and flicked the end to the ground, and then walked down the cobbled street. Jackie followed her with winding impatience. The first time Jackie had met Raja had been almost exactly a year ago, before the Hunger Games, on the train to the Capitol. Raja had stumbled into the train car completely drunk, muttered a vague greeting at Jackie and Jan, and then fallen down on her ass on the floor. Alaska had squeaked, scandalized, and Jackie remembered looking over at Jan, insulted and irritated, only to see Jan’s worried, stricken expression. 

Jackie hadn’t been able to stand it, the idea that they were being sent off like cattle to the slaughter and the one person who could help them navigate the Games had already given up, drunkenly manoeuvring herself off the floor into a chair, and slurring, _the thing is, kids, I can’t fucking help you-_

Some fucking mentor. 

So Jackie had stood up, taken her knife out and stabbed it into the table right next to Raja’s hand. Raja had paused, mid-reach for another drink, and slowly looked up at Jackie. And then she’d smiled.

Raja had said, back then, that there hadn’t been anybody in a long time who seemed like they’d actually put up a fight.

In the present, Raja walked towards the woods, glancing over her shoulder. Jackie looked back as well. The street was empty, as usual.

“Always assume someone is listening,” muttered Raja under her breath.

Then she veered off into the woods, down a path. Jackie followed her, more confused than ever. At least the impatient confusion helped cover the dread and fear growing in the back of her mind.

“The riot went on for a while after your speech in District 11,” murmured Raja, as they picked their way deeper into the woods, “People in other Districts are upset too. There’s been unrest.”

“How do you know?” said Jackie. There’d been little on the broadcasts, not that Jackie spent much time watching them anyway. A couple of days ago before the Quarter Quell announcement she’d gone down to the market to see Crystal. It had been weird to be around other people, and Jackie hadn’t said much. But Crystal had smiled and done most of the talking and then they’d walked around town for a while, until the sun started to set and curfew neared.

“I have my ways.”

Jackie frowned. As far as she could tell, Raja was always either drunk or moody or both, and no one seemed to correspond with her.

“We’re going to stay alive,” stated Raja, pausing and turning to face Jackie, with a little smirk like this was all a hilarious joke, “Think you can do that for me?”

Jackie ground her teeth with resentment. Last time, that was exactly what Raja had said at first, in the place of any practical advice. _Stay alive._ But then Raja had changed her tune, and favoured Jackie, refusing to ‘waste resources’ on Jan, who hadn’t shown the same backbone that Jackie had. The moment of Jan’s death rose up in Jackie’s vision, Jan choking on the blood that leaked into her lungs from the stab wound in her chest, fear on her face-

Jackie shook her head to clear it. 

“Uh, yeah,” managed Jackie.

“Good,” said Raja, facing forward and continuing to walk, “I know a lot of the victors personally, and depending on who’s picked we’re going to have advantages and disadvantages, it’s a very different game than it normally is.”

“Aren’t you- wait, you _know_ them?“

“Yeah, we meet for the mentoring every year, and normally there are parties and events in the Capitol where the victors show up,” said Raja, ducking under a branch, “But you’re being kept away, you should’ve been invited up by now but I think the powers that be are hoping people will forget about you. Victors can become pretty popular among the Capitol citizens.”

“So, do you have a plan?” said Jackie, trying to get at least one thing straight. She’d been popular last year, recalled Jackie, unsettled, remembering the lights and the cheering crowd. But then she’d gone home.

Raja stopped, took out her lighter and flicked it on.

“I have… ” muttered Raja, staring at the little flame, “I have something.”

-

On the day of the reaping, Jackie stood in her best clothes next to Raja onstage in the town square, while Raja surreptitiously took her flask out of her coat pocket and sipped from it. Jackie’s mother had insisted that she wear a scarf over her hair now that she was of age and up in front of the local crowd, and Jackie had acquiesced to her preference. The soft, loose, blue material proved an unexpected comfort. At least her mother still cared about her, in some capacity. A cool spring wind swirled through the town square, where everyone was gathered as usual for the ceremony.

Alaska was back from the Capitol in a bright pink dress, a distressed expression on her face as she forced a smile. The big clear bowl that contained the names for the reaping was out again, but this year instead of thousands of names on little pieces of paper, there were just two slips sitting at the bottom. It was barely a joke.

Jackie stared straight ahead, trying to keep her gaze above the crowd but she couldn’t help looking for Crystal, and found her concerned face near the edge. Jackie set her jaw. 

Alaska let out an awkward little laugh, tottering on her high heels and smoothing down her dress. She pulled the first slip of paper out. 

“This year we have… ” droned Alaska into the microphone, with a forced smile, “Raja Gemini.”

Raja raised her hands to the crowd ironically. No one responded.

“And…” continued Alaska, in a more high-pitched, nervous version of her typical drone, reaching in again. A single tear dripped through her heavy blue eye makeup down her bright pink cheek. “Jacqueline Cox.”

Somber silence from the crowd.

“May- may the odds be ever in your favour,” continued Alaska, clapping, but she was the only one and the noise faded quickly. Jackie sighed. Next to her, Raja tilted her head back and chuckled quietly at the sky. But then a familiar voice broke through the silence, the shout echoing around the square.

“This isn’t fair! You can’t punish them like this-”

The Peacekeepers on either side turned towards the noise. Someone on the opposite end of the crowd raised their hand, three fingers in the air. Others joined in. The Peacekeepers moved towards the crowd, batons out. Jackie’s heart accelerated, and she wanted to shout something to the crowd as the tension rose, to tell them to stop, that this wasn’t worth it, that she wasn’t worth it-

“Oh dear, not again,” murmured Alaska, backing off the stage as more people in the crowd shouted, pushing forward and raising their hands, saluting Jackie. The Peacekeepers moved in earnest, and started separating people, beating them down. But the crowd fought back, taking out rocks and broken bottles and knives as the riot began in earnest. An image of the old man in District 11 with the gun to his head flashed in Jackie’s vision, before she saw Crystal in the crowd, her patchwork jacket standing out as she tried to get away from a Peacekeeper who raised his baton and hit her, and she fell, disappearing into the sea of people. 

A yell burst from Jackie’s mouth and she rushed to the edge of the stage. But a vice-like hand closed around her arm and Jackie turned, angry, ready to shove off the person stopping her. But to her surprise it was Raja, her dark brown eyes flashing a warning, and she looked more alive and awake than Jackie had ever seen her.

“You can’t help,” said Raja, her expression tight. 

“Stop it-” protested Jackie, trying to shove her off, as the shouts turned to screams below them, “My friend is down there!”

“It’s bigger than just one person,” argued Raja, almost losing her balance as Jackie shoved at her, “Things are changing-”

A Peacekeeper appeared next to her, and Raja cut herself off abruptly and let go of Jackie, raising her hands and letting herself be led offstage. Jackie glanced frantically over the crowd again, but Crystal was nowhere to be seen. People were being divided up and beaten. Another, rougher pair of hand belonging to a Peacekeeper grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop-”


	4. "When you dig too deep."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie says goodbye, and she and Raja return to the Capitol once again. Jackie reunites with Widow, but Raja clashes with her over the outfit design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up like twice as long as the last one lol, I’m trying to keep them around between 2-3k in length but we’ll see how it goes.  
> I admit I'm not as confident writing the s12 characters bc I'm less familiar with them, so this has been a bit of a challenge for me, but I hope it's working! Thank you to anyone who’s reading this story so far :)

Traditionally, the tributes were given a day to say goodbye.

Jackie woke up at the crack of dawn after barely sleeping, and went outside to run. She ran through the familiar woods on her usual path, going as fast she could so the cold air burned her lungs and the pain in her legs kept her from thinking about what would happen tomorrow. But then, at the top of the ridge, Jackie noticed something and stopped. Crystal knelt by a snare, loosening it from around a dead rabbit’s neck, her familiar patchwork jacket blending into the trees. Jackie slowed, and walked up behind her. 

“Hey.”

“Hey Jackie,” said Crystal, turning. Jackie started with shock. Crystal smiled gently, but she had an awful black eye, bruised a deep purple and almost swollen shut. A cut split her eyebrow, beginning to scab over.

“Did a Peacekeeper get you?” whispered Jackie, guilt pooling in her gut.

“Yeah,” replied Crystal, shrugging, “They got a lot of people, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jackie rocked back and forth on her heels. Sweat sat cold under her arms. The sun was just breaking through the trees, illuminating their breath in the cold air. Crystal reset the snare and stood. Her movements were stiff and careful, and Jackie realized that she must have received more than a black eye.

“Everyone knows this is wrong,” stated Crystal, stepping closer to her, holding the dead rabbit down by her side. “It’s been wrong since it began-“

“What are you going to trade for the rabbit?” interrupted Jackie, avoiding the statement and the guilt in her gut.

“The usual, maybe a few credits,” laughed Crystal, wincing and going with the change of subject, “Maybe milk and bread, or I might get my radio repaired. There are these pirate broadcasts, sometimes I can pick them up from District 3, it’s not that far to the border from here.”

Jackie nodded without really taking in what Crystal had said. She stood stiff, nervous, as the dread and loneliness swelled up around her. There was no way she’d come out alive a second time. This was the end. Jackie had been reflecting on it, she was certain this was a divine punishment of some sort, it had to be, for failing to protect Heidi and Jan, and then for what she’d done at the very end-

“Jackie,” said Crystal, taking another small step closer. 

Jackie looked up, and sniffed, trying not to let the hot tears leak down her cheeks. 

“I think you’re going to survive.”

Jackie couldn’t help it, she let out a laugh as bitter and lunatic as Raja’s. They were becoming the same, realized Jackie with a jolt-

But Crystal just grinned, like she wasn’t afraid at all. Jackie bent forward, shaking with hysterical laughter, everything was so awful. Crystal laughed with her for a moment, leaning in and touching Jackie’s elbow, steadying her.

Jackie’s laughter faded, and she stilled. They stared at one another, breath mingling in the air between them. There had always been something about Crystal, a chance Jackie had never taken.

“If- _when_ you come back,” said Crystal, leaning in cautiously, “Maybe we can…?”

“We can,” replied Jackie, as the possibility dawned and a confusing, lonely desire rose up in her. Jackie closed the distance between them, accidentally bumping Crystal’s nose with her own. But they both laughed and tried again, awkward and new.

Neither of them were particularly experienced or good at it, but they held one another and kissed for a long time anyway, Crystal with a dead rabbit in her hand and Jackie with cold sweat under her arms, staying together in the freezing woods as the sun rose.

-

Jackie sighed and hugged Darius goodbye, holding him tight. Then she stepped back and looked at him, trying to commit his little face to memory. Jackie turned and stiffly hugged her mother, the exhausted woman resting all of her weight on Jackie for a moment before letting her go, and wiping her tear-stained cheeks. She didn’t say anything. Jackie stared at them both, trying to hold the moment in her mind like a photograph. 

“It isn’t fair,” said Darius quietly, his voice tight like he might cry, “You already went once.”

“I know, but-” said Jackie, and looked up as a knock sounded at the door. Jackie opened it, and there stood Alaska, accompanied by a guard, and behind them by the steps, Raja. Jackie turned back to Darius.

“I love you, look after yourself,” whispered Jackie, squeezing his shoulder. She turned and left. 

At the end of the street, the group got into a large vehicle to take them to the train station. As they drove through town, people gathered to watch. More people than last time, noted Jackie, significantly more. In fact, crowds were gathering again, with more Peacekeepers around than normal, holding people back. Someone raised their hand in a three-fingered salute.

On the train Raja went straight to the bar, and ordered a drink for herself and one for Alaska, who kept fussing with her skirt and pressing her lips together, like she was upset.

“You want one?” called Raja over her shoulder. 

Jackie shook her head. Now that they were on the train the dread had settled back in. Raja claimed she had a plan but Jackie didn’t truly trust her.

“Is everything going to be the same?” asked Jackie, turning to Alaska. “Are we still going to do the chariot rides, the training, the interviews?”

“Yes,” said Alaska, taking a little breath and fluffing her baby blue tulle dress nervously, “I’ve been given the itinerary. First is the chariot presentation for the Capitol, the three days of training and of course the interviews with Nina, and a party at President’s palace, which is another opportunity to network with sponsors-”

“Ooh, a party, what fun!” sang Raja sarcastically, imitating Alaska’s Capitol accent and draining her first drink, quickly ordering another.

Jackie rolled her eyes and walked away from the bar. Last year during training she’d shown off her skills at making snares and throwing knives. But she hadn’t shown her speed and her endurance, which was what had ended up helping her the most. Everyone knew about that now. What else did she have? Jackie paused in her self-reflection, looking back to Raja, who was gulping down a second martini and saying something to Alaska.

What were Raja’s skills?

Jackie didn’t know how Raja had won her Games, twenty-six years ago. Jackie turned away, trawling her memory, surely someone would have mentioned it what with Raja being the only victor in District 12 for so long… but she came up blank.

“Sit down with me for a minute,” said Raja, clapping a hand on Jackie’s shoulder, and leading her over to the cushioned seats at the edge of the train. 

“Alaska, the thing, bring up the thing,” insisted Raja, and Alaska came over, scanning her watch over a slim piece of technology on the low table in front of them. A holographic screen popped up.

“Show us the feed with the reapings this year,” continued Raja, and Alaska hit something else on her watch, and then tapped in a little code on the holographic screen, and the image changed. “Let’s see who we’re up against. Particularly from the Career Districts.”

The footage of the reaping in District 1 came up. A short, dark-haired woman was selected, and then, even before the second name was called, a tall statuesque blonde with a wicked scar in her cheek volunteered to gasps and cheers from the audience. The blonde and the shorter woman embraced on the stage, much to Jackie’s surprise.

“Brooke and Vanessa, everyone’s favourite couple in the Capitol,” stated Raja, sipping her drink and slopping it on her shirt, brushing absentmindedly at the stain, as on the screen the brunette made a declaration of love and commitment, “'Gotta be with her lover until the very end' or whatever. That’ll boost their popularity for sure.”

Jackie didn’t know what to say, she remembered Brooke vaguely from when she’d mentored last year’s tributes from District 1. The tall one, Gigi, Jackie recalled, had made it almost to the end, chasing her through the jungle-

The feed from District 2 came up next, showing a tanned woman in her late thirties with short dark brown hair and dark stylized eye makeup. She looked smug, and there was something about her that Jackie immediately didn’t like. The second woman was younger, taller and thinner, with darker skin and long, straight black hair, wearing the same eye makeup. They stood in front of a long line of tributes up on the stage. At the same time, they both grinned, revealing teeth filed into sharp points. Jackie inhaled sharply. 

“Ugh,” said Raja, grimacing, “Not that bitch, I fucking knew it. Next!”

“Wait, who are they-”

“I’ll explain later,” muttered Raja. 

The third District came and went with limited commentary from Raja, offering two quiet, curvy women in their mid-thirties, one ginger-haired and the other with long box braids. Both tributes looked soft and out of shape. The next District came up, and a young woman with flowing blonde hair and pale skin was selected. But with her was a small, older man, who’d volunteered in the place of a hysterically sobbing girl.

“Well that’s tragic,” commented Raja, shaking her head.

“Volunteering is honourable-“ interrupted Alaska, standing next to them with her arms crossed, but her tone held doubt. 

“It’s a death wish, shut up.”

The next two reapings passed uneventfully, with limited reaction in District 5, and District 6 offered two skinny, pale, hollow-eyed ghosts, one with faded purple hair, the other’s lank and scraggly.

“Morphlings, addicted to painkiller,” sighed Raja, with a touch of sympathy, “But watch out for the small one, she won by hiding, she let her opponents bleed out and starve.”

The smaller one with the faded purple hair looked around helplessly, like a child seeking a parent. Jackie grimaced and looked away.

District 7 gave two tougher-looking individuals; a dark-skinned woman in her early thirties who laughed and raised her hands ironically like Raja had when her name was called. The other was skinny, and shouted angry protests at the camera when her name was called, arguing and shouting until she was dragged offstage and the feed cut out. 

“Interesting,” was all Raja had to say about that.

District 8 provided a resigned-looking brunette and another middle-aged man, and District 9 offered two more middle-aged, out of shape male tributes, both readings passed without comment. Jackie picked at her nails and Raja ordered another drink. Alaska hovered awkwardly next to them. District 10 offered another woman Raja’s age, with long, curly chestnut brown hair, and a strong nose. She raised her fist in the air when she was chosen. The crowd in her District cheered for her, but not in the same way the crowds in the Career Districts had, instead this noise was righteous, mournful, angry. That particular victor must be well-liked, considered Jackie.

Raja actually smiled, and said, with rare affection in her voice, “Oh, Bianca. This is going to be fun.”

District 11 offered a tall, large woman in her late fifties, with a big scar in her neck, and a striking, muscular young woman, with high cheekbones. The crowd in District 11 cheered for the young woman with the same tone they had in District 10, and she nodded to them, expression nervous and formal.

“That’s Jaida,” stated Raja, sitting up a little straighter, her eyes on the young woman, “She won two years ago, she’s the same age as you are now.”

Jackie nodded, remembering her vaguely. She wondered if Jaida had known Heidi, and quashed the thought. District 11 was huge, there was no way they’d have known each other. Jackie took in a breath and let it out.

“Districts One and Two are going to be a problem,” said Raja, her expression hardening once Alaska had turned the screen off and wandered away, “They have the most living victors to pick from in the first place, but those particular four are going to be brutal-“

“It’s the same as last year, the Careers always have an advantage,” interrupted Jackie distractedly, still caught up thinking about Heidi, her laugh when she’d talked about racing up and down the river with the other kids at home, and the ache in Jackie’s chest sharpened-

“And who do you think has been _training_ those lovely new Career tributes all this time?” replied Raja darkly, draining her glass.

-

“Widow!” exclaimed Jackie, rushing down the hall to greet the stylist, who wrapped her up in a big hug. Jackie smiled, letting the rare joy fill her. Last year, Widow had designed outfits using the gems mined in District 12 as a metaphor, portraying the tributes in kaleidoscopic jewel tones, as having been hardened beneath the earth into something beautiful and unbreakable. As Widow had mentioned, in the designer’s society working with tributes from a poor District with few victors wasn’t considered particularly impressive, but she wasn't like any of the other older, small-minded designers Jackie had been expecting. Widow’s work had garnered support, sponsors and fans for Jackie and Jan, as well as respect and career advancement for herself. Widow had played no small part in Jackie’s survival and victory.

They’d arrived in the Capitol in the morning after the overnight train ride, and the chariot show was in the early afternoon. Jackie wasn’t looking forward to it, but seeing Widow again brought up hope in her heart. At least somebody was on her side.

“Jackie, honey!” replied Widow, smiling and holding Jackie by the shoulders to look her over with keen, green-lined eyes, her ears glittering with little silver rings, “You look great. It’s good to see you, I wish it was under different circumstances.“

“Me too.”

"Enough with the reunion,” muttered Raja, sipping from her flask next to them, “And if you try to put me in a dress, Widow, I swear-“

Widow rolled her eyes and said dryly to Jackie, “She’s a little much, isn’t she?”

Jackie nodded vehemently.

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna send a message just like last time,” said Widow, squeezing Jackie’s shoulder, and leading her down the hallway to the dressing and preparation area, “A show of strength, I’ve got it all set up. The last few days have been crazy with preparations.”

“I’m not wearing a dress,” insisted Raja, trailing behind them.

“We know!” called Widow over her shoulder. Jackie couldn’t help but laugh.

After what Jackie felt was excessive dressing, primping, painting and fussing, she stood before the full-length mirror. Her dress was long, a high-necked, sleeveless pattern cut from a rich dark grey-blue fabric that looked like bedrock. Her eye makeup was yellow, red and orange. Jackie glanced over to her left. A few feet away from her Raja glared at her own mirror, wearing a suit of the same rich blue-grey material, well-fitting trousers and a long jacket with a deep black shirt underneath. Her makeup matched Jackie’s, and Widow had actually drawn eyebrows on her. Normally, her eyebrows were near-invisible wisps over slightly shiny skin, which made her face lack expression.

"You could've worked with tributes from any District after last year," commented Jackie, looking over her shoulder at Widow, "But you're still with Twelve?"

"There's potential in the higher-numbered Districts," said Widow, her tone of voice carefully neutral, "That people in the Capitol don't see."

“So,” said Jackie, not entirely sure if she understood Widow's explanation, looking down at her dress, curious about the design, “What is it supposed to represent this time?”

“You tell me, what’s under the earth?” asked Widow, looking at Jackie, her expression suddenly serious.

Jackie looked down at her dress. 

“Uh, bedrock?” replied Jackie, laughing a little. She wasn’t any good at this kind of thing. The symbolism behind the colours, cloth patterns, and textures that were so important in the Capitol meant very little to her, the layers of metaphor like a language she didn’t speak.

“Bedrock, sure,” chuckled Widow, putting her hands on her hips, and walking around Jackie, giving her a once-over as she spoke, “And iron, coal, stone, minerals, gems.”

Jackie nodded, trying to follow where Widow was going with this. Widow stepped up close to Jackie, adjusting something on her collar. 

“But what’s below that?” asked Widow.

Jackie frowned, thinking. Widow glanced from side to side, then pressed a small token, like a coin, into Jackie’s hand.

“What is it?” whispered Jackie, glancing to the guard by the door, and to the assistants, who were fussing with Raja and not paying attention to Widow and Jackie. Raja's warning flashed through her mind, _always assume someone is listening._

“Press it when it’s time, you’ll know when,” murmured Widow.

Jackie nodded, hiding the coin and wondering.

“What do you find in the earth, when you dig too deep?” continued Widow, at a regular volume, her expression serious again as she stepped back.

Jackie just shrugged, confused, she still didn’t know the answer.

“Fire,” muttered Raja, from her other side.

-

The whole thing was humiliating, thought Jackie as she stood on the chariot next to Raja, who gripped the edge and teetered slightly, already drunk under the bright afternoon sun in the Capitol. If the chariot parade had been difficult the first time around, this time it was a ridiculous, cruel pantomime. The victors of various ages were dressed in their outfits, being presented to the Capitol masses before being sent into another Arena to die. Dread and despair pressed against Jackie for a moment, as the chariots rolled out and Raja lurched, off balance. Jackie steadied her, shaking her head in disbelief and embarrassment. They rolled through the massive square to loud drumbeats, past the enormous brutal concrete buildings and the flags displaying Panem’s gold symbol, with spectators thronged on either side. At a podium so high Jackie could barely see him, President Charles stood. The chariots rolled up, turning to circle the huge square, just as they had last time. Resentment burned in Jackie’s chest, with hatred for the Capitol, for the Hunger Games itself, this punishment for something she didn’t even understand-

Jackie thumbed the token Widow had given her, as the chariot circled. She glared up at the crowd, and pressed it. 

Her outfit burst into flame. But it didn’t burn her, the technology in the fabric enabled beautiful, soft, artificial flames, dancing and colourful, matching her eye makeup. A curious cheer went up from the crowd, and Jackie smiled to herself in wonder-

But there was a gasp next to her.

“No,” whispered Raja in panic, taking her hands off the bar to frantically rub at her outfit as if trying to scrape the fire off, and stumbling back, “Help-”

Jackie grabbed her arm, but Raja’s face was agonized and she released a strangled yell and twisted against Jackie, trying to put out the artificial flames and almost falling off the back of the chariot. 

“Raja it’s part of the outfit, it’s not real,” managed Jackie, trying to hold onto her as Raja’s breath shortened, “You’re gonna fall off, hold on.” Jackie pulled at her, dragging the older woman forward so she fell against the front of the chariot, gasping for breath.

Slowly, she stood, and Jackie kept one hand on her back. Their outfits danced with bright, artificial flame. Raja shivered, and spat over the side of the chariot as it came to the stop. Her face held a sheen of sweat.

The announcements went on, the crowd stared down at them in fascination, the bright, colourful Capitol citizens murmuring amongst themselves. Jackie looked down at her hands.

The chariots circled back, and everyone returned to their respective prep areas. The fire had faded, leaving their outfits veined with an orange-red glow. Raja went ahead of Jackie, getting back into the private area as quickly as she could.

“Great fucking design, great concept!” snarled Raja at Widow as she entered, vicious and sarcastic, ripping the jacket off her back with shaking hands and throwing it on the floor in front of her, “You really did your research, didn’t you? You think you’re so _goddamn smart-_ “

“I had a message to send,” snapped Widow, firm, impatience flashing in her dark brown eyes as Raja pulled the shirt over her head, “You of all people know why, and _oh, I don’t know,_ maybe it’ll help keep you both alive!“

“You could’ve warned me!”

“I did warn you, but clearly you didn't pick up on it because you're _plastered-_ “

Jackie looked on in surprise as Raja threw her shirt on the floor, and then pried off her shoes and pulled her trousers down, stumbling as she kicked them off from around her ankles. She turned away, radiating helpless rage.

As Raja stalked down the hall in her plain black underwear, throwing a hand against the wall as she veered off balance, Jackie noticed something. A huge swath of Raja’s back was covered in pale, shiny scar tissue that stood out distinctly from her light brown skin.

“I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have yelled at you,” said Jackie, turning to Widow, confusion and embarrassment coursing through her.

“It’s not your fault,” replied Widow, sighing and shaking her head, hurt and frustration flashing across her face, “Neither of you want to be here, and it's just- the stakes are so high. They’re always too high. But this,” Widow gestured at Jackie's outfit and then at Raja’s crumpled clothes on the ground, her voice determined again, “this is what I _do,_ and I’m going to do it well.”

Jackie nodded in partial understanding, and surreptitiously slipped the token that had triggered the artificial flames back into Widow’s hand, and said, “Thank you.”

Widow nodded distractedly and Jackie left, walking down the hallway where Raja had vanished and sighed. Alaska met her at the end, saying something about Raja having gone along ahead that Jackie mostly ignored. Alaska led her up to the apartment where they’d be staying for the duration of the training period. Jackie stared for a moment at the door of Raja’s room, and overheard the noise of the shower. She entered her own bedroom, which was lavish and huge just like it had been last time, and took her dress off and laid it out with care, considerate of Widow’s work. Jackie thought over the symbolism, the dark dress like bedrock accompanied by the burst of flame, trying to put it together.

Exhausted, Jackie gave up and lay down on the bed. The chariot exhibition today had been an awful, bizarre pantomime of last time. This whole experience was an awful, bizarre pantomime of last time.

Tomorrow would be the first day of training. Jackie shut her eyes and imagined the woods at home, sinking into the deep quiet and calm, and she pictured Crystal, recalling the taste of her soft lips with a swoop of longing in her stomach.


End file.
